


A Small Price

by Meliamme



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Lazy Author, M/M, More Blood, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Original Male Character(s) - Freeform, References to Depression, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, oh my god angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-05-15 18:40:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14795849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meliamme/pseuds/Meliamme
Summary: Everett is a pilot in the middle of a fierce battle. He is shot down by enemy planes, and lands in a third world country. Recovering from his injuries, he meets the king of the country, T'Challa. They are haughty and rude toward each other, but as times progress, they each find something different in the other.





	1. Chapter 1

“Ross! What are you doing? Get back to the flee-” the line crackled out and was replaced with static. Everett gripped his controls tighter and pursed his lips tightly. Enemy planes flew behind him, their bullets whirling around in the empty air around him. A few pieces of ammunition got lucky and rang off of the back of Everett’s plane. Creases pressed into his forehead and he clenched his jaw tighter and the bullets became more accurate; they sang off his wings and the top of his plane. They were a startling reminder of what was happening. Everett had been picked off from his fleet, and deciding it was better than getting everyone else into a skirmish, he pulled off and hoped to lead them astray. His captain had been infuriated, but Everett was too far out of range for any form of contact.Nervousness bubbled in Everett’s stomach and he licked his lips. 

 

Suddenly, the motor was hit with a bone rattling roar. The controls jerked and Everett gasped, “Shit, shit, shit.” Fumbling to get back into control, the pilot frowned and his breath sped up. Smoke filled his view and he felt his stomach slam into the top of its cavity as the plane started dropping altitude at an alarming rate. Everett felt the pressure of the speed of his drop on his chest and he gasped quietly. The plane impacted the ground with a screeching crunch, and Everett felt a large piece of metal slide into his stomach cavity. The pain that ripped through his body was immense, and he let a large breath out with small tears dripping along with it. Blood soaked his uniform and his vision swirled; Everett knew he was done for. His head felt like an over-inflated balloon as black danced in his eyes. As it solidified, Everett closed his eyes and grabbed a necklace that sat under his uniform. He heard stomping in the distance, but it was to late. He slipped from consciousness and fell limp.  

  
  


Everett blinked. All he saw was white. Letting them focus, Everett saw a circle of lights put into a white ceiling. Didn’t look like what he expected heaven to look like. Letting out a breath, he lifted an arm. It looked real. He put a hand on his neck and felt that his pulse was fine. He was alive; but how? Realizing, he gasped and patted his stomach. Everett didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t the feeling of cold metal. Intrigued, he tried to sit up and groaned. Even if he didn’t have a hole in him, it still hurt. Panting, the pilot rubbed his forehead. He couldn’t be alive; the metal had gone straight through him and  broken his spine, and most possibly destroyed several of his internal organs. A small shuffling outside his field of view made him tense. A high pitched giggle escaped the noise, and it moved closer. Almost rudely, a hand thrust into Everett’s vision and waved it. Exasperated, the pilot croaked, “Stop that!” though it sounded more like he was choking. The hand did stop, though it poked his cheek instead. Irritated, Everett whipped his head to the side with a scowl. He was surprised, however, upon seeing a teenage girl in a bright outfit. She smiled warmly and waved. He waved back and she smiled. 

 

“Good to see you, Colonizer.” she chuckled at her own joke. Her accent was thick, and quite frankly, beautiful. The name was annoying, though. Everett’s eyes widened and he pursed his lips. He tried to speak again, which just ended in a series of choked groans. The girl frowned and walked away. Everett grabbed at his throat and frowned deeper. The girl returned with a glass of water, which he took gratefully. 

 

He tried to take a drink and swallow, but choked and dropped the cup of water. Arms hunched over his middle, the pilot groaned lowley and slowly waited out the tearing waves of pain that were washing over him. The girl gasped and seemed to type something into a keyboard that appeared out of nowhere. Immediately, tubes grabbed Everett and inserted into his skin. Strangely, they didn’t hurt, but the places they were put were unconventional. His neck, arms, and legs were not safe from them. The tubes in his legs went higher than necessary, and Everett flushed as one of them brushed the inside of his thigh. 

 

The girl was typing faster, and liquid spilled into the tubes. Everett groaned at the stuff entering him; it was cold and moving very fast. She stopped, and the liquid stopped as well. The tubes retracted, leaving no trace of their entrance. Everett rubbed his neck and swallowed, happy to be able to swallow. “What the hell did you just put in me?” he asked, annoyance and worry flowing in his eyes. 

 

The girl pursed her lips and said, “Water, genius. What did you think I put in you, dirt?” 

 

“It’s hard to trust you, after you stuffed me with tubes.” Everett fired back, a frown gracing his features again. The girl just smiled and walked away. The pilot took in a deep breath, and the trace of metal wandered through the air. He was stuck, for the time being. Like a wall, the event of the day seemed to catch up with Everett and he yawned, wincing in pain as his middle cramped again. The girls was back, smiling warmly. 

 

“I’m Shuri. Tomorrow you will meet my brother.” 


	2. An Unfortunate Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected schedule change leads Everett to meet T'Challa earlier than planned. Anger stoked, an argument breaks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks so much for all the support, It's great! This is a bigger reaction than I thought I would ever create. Sorry for any mistakes. I wrote the chapter in about 4 hours, so sorry. Have a wonderful day!

Everett clenched his fists; he had just started walking and it hurt. A lot. Shuri was being amazing, helping Everett every time he tried something new, reassuring him that he would be able to do anything he normally could do soon. Even with the reassurance, Everett still worried. Small tasks like sitting up or crouching to the ground hurt and were challenging with the metal midsection. It turned out that the midsection was helping his body heal faster, and that his body should connect with the metal once it was done healing. Right know, his body sensed a foreign object and was trying to rid of it. He only had a few hours before meeting Shuri’s brother, and he wanted to at least be able to stand and shake the man's hand. Shuri walked into the room and frowned at Everett’s pained expression. “Still hurting?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Everett winced, “but I think I’ll live.” Smiling, Shuri scooted closer to him and hooked an arm under one of his shoulders. Grateful for the help, Everett let some of his weight fall on her and slumped down a bit. Shuri giggled and smirked. 

“Change of plans, Colonizer. You’re meeting my brother now!” she cried, smile growing. The pilot froze, eyes widening. 

“So, I - um - I’m meeting him now?” 

“Yes, genius! Did you go deaf in the crash too?” Shuri laughed, starting to walk forward. Everett refused to help her in any way, disliking the change of plans and the unprepared state he was in. She held most of his weight and the pilot walked at a slower pace than hers, determined to make the journey as cumbersome as possible. Shuri noticed and poked him in the back none too gently, hissing as he refused to comply. Stairs were a problem, whether Everett helped or not. They hurt his almost non-existent stomach muscles to lift his legs and he continuously got cramps. 

They finally made it to an office that was well furnished; shelves adorned with african artifacts lined the walls a large desk was facing. The wall behind the desk was entirely made out of large windows, showing grey and blue stone behind them. The small light coming from the window outlined the desk and a large chair that sat behind it in a hazy blue halo. The chair was facing away from the entrance, so Everett had no view of it’s occupant. Shuri dragged him into a chair facing the desk and poked him in the shoulder roughly. Apparently she was a little sour about Everett’s over using her help. She walked out of the room and closed the doors behind her. 

Curiosity flooded the pilot’s veins and he was overcome by the need to know who was behind the chair. As the minuted bled by, the curiosity was drained out by impatience. Everett coughed lightly into his hand, wincing as it sent a shiver of pain through his body. “I am well aware of your presence, Everett.” said a rich, deep voice with an accent much like Shuri’s. Surprise jerked Everett in his seat and he kicked the leg of his chair, sending a resonance of skin on metal ringing throughout the room. How did they know his name? It wasn't possible, there were no traces of any relation to a name or heritage in the plane. Awkward silence stretched throughout the room, the tension palpable. 

The waiting grew to be too much for Everett. He then said, “So, you’re Shuri’s brother, right?” Everett didn’t know what to call this person, and didn’t know who was behind it, so he might as well have been talking to the chair. The chair seemed to consider something, as it paused before answering. 

“Yes.” 

“Who are you, exactly?” Everett questioned. The chair refused to turn around, and stayed in the solitary position, facing the window. Everett frowned; this was just getting ridiculous. First, he was dragged up a flight of stairs and shoved in a chair, and now he was forced to have a mostly one sided conversation with a chair. Being stubborn, he refused to talk before the chair. Minutes passed of aggressive silence, the inanimate and animate objects challenging each other to a silent war. Everett stuck to his military training, which coded into his veins the very strict order of never showing fear or weakness in front of an enemy, and for all he knew, this could be one of his enemies. 

The chair finally gave and started turning around. Everett tried to compose his face into an emotionless mask. The chair revealed a man of tall stature, muscles killing his suit. His dark skin was complimented by a black beard and thin sideburns, tracing into short cut hair on the top of the man’s head. He had thick lips and a stout neck. He was dressed well, his suit too tight in the shoulders and squeezing his muscles. Everett instantly had the impression that he was sitting face to face with someone important. Very, very important. It suddenly made Everett self conscious about his own clothing, just a black robe with intricate designs and buckles in the front. The way the important person’s face was set, it had a look of mild irritation and distrust. Everett suddenly had feeling to his face and hope he had kept a semi-appropriate look on his face. Straightening his shirt, the pilot stared into the man’s eyes; they were a brown so dark it looked black in the dim light. “I’m Everett Ross, though it - uh - seems like you already knew that.” Everett tilted his head at the man, an opening for him to introduce himself. 

“I am T’Challa, son of T’Chaka, king of Wakanda,” and without waiting for a reply, continued, “you were found yesterday in a crashed plane at our borders. My people saw your plane shot down and that it crashed. Why were you shot down?” 

“The planes that shot me down are forces fighting against my military. I was on a mission to bomb one of their important power centrals.” Everett explained, hands crossed in his lap. At the mention of bombing, T’Challa’s face drew back in disgust. He seemed to struggle to gain control of his emotions and then pursed his lips.  
“Why were you bombing?” 

“There was a large meeting that day and the bombs most likely would have killed some of the more important people we needed to take care of.” Everett said, confused at the king’s distaste. He must have understood this, right? The enemy was going to kill them, or get killed. It was the way it worked. Suddenly, the king slammed his hands on the desk and stood, rage curling out from him in almost visible waves. 

“Have you ever considered the consequences of your actions?” he snarled, “Do you know how many innocent get killed in those mass bombings?” Everett was startled by the outburst and jumped to his feet, only to cringe in pain as his stomach writhed in agony. The words of the king stung, and Everett was desperate to redeem himself. 

“We had to. They were going to eradicate us anyway.” he growled. 

T’Challa growled lowly and his fingers curled into the desk. Upon later inspection, he would find marks where they actually dug into the table. “When was your last bombing?” he snarled.

“I wasn’t deployed on it, but it was five months ago.” 

“Did you know that was the meeting between that country and mine for a peace accord? Did you know that my father was in the building? Did you know your army first hand murdered him?” T’Challa shouted. Everett instantly straightened his back at the demanding tone. Anger welled up in him. How dare this king accuse him off killing off his father on a mission he was not even deployed on. He reached forward and slammed his hands on the desk as well, disregarding the pain that rocketed through his chest. 

“I didn’t. I joined to save my nation, not your father. I did not bomb that building. Maybe it was your father’s fault that he died; he was the one who showed up.” Everett hissed. He knew he overstepped his welcome, though. The anger in T’Challa’s irises boiled over and and suddenly stood. Everett stood as well, a sense of dread suddenly grabbing his heart. Almost to fast for him to comprehend, T'Challa's fist slammed into the pilot’s face and then the man hurtling. Everett hit the doors to the office with enough force to open on of them. Blood trickled from a head wound on his temple and he saw Shuri running through the hall. Pain exploded behind his eyes and spots danced before his eyes. Shuri supported his head and he saw T’Challa staring out the window again. He only heard one thing before the darkness totally enveloped his vision. 

“Brother! How could you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not being more clear on what country is fighting Everett's nation. I wish to not offend anyone, so I'm keeping it anonymous.


	3. Here We Go Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everett is invited on a mission with T'Challa. Things go haywire and the pilot finds himself injured again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry if I mess up the posts, grammar, or spelling. Have a wonderful day!

The days trickled by, and Everett slowly got better. The had suffered a minor concussion from T’Challa, but it had healed quickly. His stomach had slowly stopped hurting; body accepting the artificial midsection. He could walk, freely run, and was capable of doing most anything he could do before. Interestingly enough, Shuri had managed to put a stomach as well as any of the damaged internal organs in the replacement midsection. He could eat and function just as everybody else. An added benefit, the stomach would filter out how much fat went into his system, and would keep him in healthy shape even if he decided to chug four two liter sodas. 

Everett had not seen T’Challa at all the passing weeks. The king avoided him, which the pilot was grateful for. He did not need a painful reminder to the past. All was normal; he didn’t really do anything besides sit around and help Shuri on some of her projects. One day, Shuri walked into the lab with much more vigor than usual. “Guess what, Colonizer!” she yelled. Everett had been sitting on the floor, and he jerked up at the loud noise. 

“What?” he asked, rubbing the front of his robe to hide his tarnished dignity. 

“You’re going on a mission with my brother!” 

“What?” Everett asked again, confused. He thought that T’Challa was avoiding him at all costs. To be invited along on a mission was surprising. Shuri rolled her eyes and sighed. 

“You are going on a mission. With my brother. Got that, genius?” 

“Why?” 

“Because. You need exercise. Even with the fake stomach, you still can grow fat over time.” Shuri said, not understanding Everett’s question. 

“No, why did he - uh - choose me?” 

“I told him to.”

“Why?” Everett couldn’t grasp the situation. The last time he had seen the king, T’Challa had punched him. It was not good. 

Shuri sighed and rubbed her face. “You need exercise,” she said, and walked off. Everett stood looking at her empty place, shocked. His military training kicked in and he sprang towards the retreating girl, urgently walling out for her. She heard and turned around to see Everett running after her. Once he caught up, Shuri turned and started walking again. 

“What weapons will I be using?” he asked. Shuri brightened considerably at this and sped up. She led Everett to a table with several things on it, too different from the pilot’s own weapons for him to recognize any of them. One was vaguely familiar, holding the same shape of a gun he had seen before. He picked it up and it felt right, well balanced and dangerous. Shuri giggled and pointed to it. 

“That is a pistol I modeled after the American style. I added some Vibranium touches to it, as the original was incredibly weak,” she said, “It can fire farther, had less recoil, and the bullets will never run out. There is a chamber in the bottom that creates them. Just remember to put a Vibranium in the back, and you’ll be fine.” Everett stared at the gun, marveling at its complex simplicity. It looked almost the exact same as any of the pistols he had seen before, but a back chamber and build were different. Shuri pointed to a foam cloth hanging from the ceiling. Upon later review, Everett would notice that it hadn't always been there. Shuri must have put it up. She said, “Shoot that.” and stepped back. 

Everett aimed and pulled the trigger. Barely any noise came from the gun, but he say a blue bullet race from the end and toward the foam. There was no recoil at all, and Everett could hear the small click of the gun being reloaded. He shot again, and again, and again, until Shuri grabbed his shoulder. The practise had been exhilarating, and he smiled at her. Shuri looked slightly put off, and grabbed the gun from his hands. He let go of it cautiously, and smiled again. Shuri grinned and asked, “Do you like it?” Everett’s smile grew larger. 

“It’s amazing!” he shouted, overcome with awe. How such a young girl could make technology so advanced was beyond him. Everett knew not to question how she made it. He would never get an answer. An awkward silence passed through the room as both of them didn't know what to say. Shuri turned away from the pilot and set the gun in a holster. She then put it on Everett’s waist, and it stuck. Raising an eyebrow, Everett poked the holster. It didn't move an inch. Shuri sensed his confusion. 

“Electromagnetism. It sticks to your stomach.” she said, and poked him with in the gut. Everett winced but grinned. 

“When are we leaving?” 

“Just about now.” Shuri grinned like a cat, smug contempt written on her face. Everett turned around and saw T’Challa staring at them, looking uncomfortable and angry. Everett refused to duck his gaze and stared at the king, defiance creeping into his stance as he turned around fully. Shuri grumbled and muttered, “You two are acting like teenage girls.” and pushed Everett forward. He moved, and walked to the king. T’Challa looked down at him with his eyebrows furrowed, and Everett realised how close he was. Shuri looked back and clapped her hands. “Chop, Chop, you two! Get moving!” she shouted. Everett jumped and T’Challa scowled in her direction. The princes must have grinned smugly, for T’Challa scowled deeper and turned around. They passed the office and Everett was pleased to see a small dent in the wood where he hit the door. A reminder to T’Challa for what he had done. 

 

They left the building and entered a triangular plane with amazing architecture and style. Everett’s eye widened when he saw it. Being a well seasoned pilot, he knew a good plane from a bad one. This one was amazing. He stepped on board and continued to marvel at it, barely noticing a bald woman sitting at the controls. She and T’Challa started a conversation in a language that he didn't understand. He stood awkwardly at the entrance and fiddled with his hands behind his back, not sure of what to do. T’Challa turned to him and motioned to a seat with his hand. Everett sat down and stared out the window, refusing to look at anyone. The plane ride passed in an uncomfortable silence, and Everett noticed the outside growing darker. Realizing he still needed to know what to do, he opened his mouth. 

“So, um, what are we doing?” 

“We are rescuing some of my people from the hands of a difficult nation. Kill every person who attacks you. We leave no mercy.” T’Challa’s voice was cold and hard; Everett was shocked. Why was he chosen for this? There were probably much better fighters in Wakanda than him, and he and the king where not on good terms right now. Hr shook his head. Now was not the time to be worrying about silly squabbles. He readied himself and the rest of the ride passed in silence. 

The plane stopped, and Everett waited for a que to release him. T’Challa’s clothing crumbled, being replaced by a tight looking suit. It had silver accents on it and Everett had to admit, he looked pretty good. The suit hugged his muscles and it seemed like T’Challa was flexing when he wasn’t. Everett shook his head again and fiddled with his fingers. The king stepped onto a circle symbol in the middle of the plane and dropped. Everett sucked in a quiet breath and looked through the circle to the ground.

The woman must have been very good at moving stealthily, for the next second he was being pushed out of the plane. An involuntary yelp followed him out of the plane as he dropped. Hurtling towards the ground, the pilot began hyperventilating and cursing, and did not see T’Challa preparing to catch him. When Everett hit something hard and soft at the same time, he hissed out of his teeth. His midsection had not like that and it stung a little. Looking around, he saw he was being held bridal style by T’Challa. Flushing, Everett rolled out of the king’s grip and hit the ground. T’Challa looked away and didn't say anything. Everett didn't either. 

Suddenly, the king took off running around the building. Everett struggled to keep up, breath still accelerated from the freefall. They turned a corner and ran into a bunch of guards. T’Challa was on them in seconds, punching and hitting. Everett pulled his gun and hit three of them. It was a small number, but Everett tried his best. They proceeded further, not running into any more guards. They met a hallway that branched off two ways. T’Challa growled and pointed to the one on the left. “You go there. I’ll take the right.” he said, and disappeared. Everett sighed and continued on his path. Guards would sometimes show up on regular rounds, and Everett would always shoot them. He wanted to focus on the gun, not the people he was shooting. Then he heard a commotion from up ahead. Running towards it, e recognized the sounds of a fight. A deadly one as well. Upon arriving, Everett stared into the scene. Guards focused on a man in a panther suit, bullets ringing off of him. A large group of people stood behind the fight, cowering at the bullets. Everett ran towards them and motioned for them to follow. They seemed distrustful until Everett pointed his gun to a guard and shot. The people surged toward the hallway he had come down. All but one small girl. She stood frozen, like a deer in headlights. Everett ran towards her and shook her shoulder gently. She stared at him in awe, but did not move. 

A rippling pain burst through Everetts shoulder and he groaned. He felt the blood pouring from the bullet wound before he knew what happened. The girls eyes widened in shock and she ran from her spot to the rest of the group. Everett stood and wobbled a little, the pain in his shoulder immense. He shot at anyone he could, but sight was blurry and his aim was failing. The last guard fell, and Everett fell with him. Blood loss made his head spin, and he felt someone shaking his shoulder. For the third time in the month, blackness started to dance in front of his eyes and he heard a single call:

“Everett!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor old Martin. Getting shot in the shoulder twice. maybe this time it won't leave a limp...


	4. Melancholy Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everett is thanked by the girl he saved. It sends him reeling into sadness, as it pulled well-hidden memories into the open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah...sorry. If you read the first parts and expected something every day, I'm super sorry. I had a swim camp where I had no internet and I couldn't write anything. If you still have hope for this, Thank you so much! And yes, When Everett got shot in the shoulder I really wanted to crack a Sherlock joke.

Everett groaned and blinked. His head felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton balls and his shoulder was aching severely. Sitting up, the pilot let out a string of colorful curses as pain shot through his shoulder and abdomen. Shuri rushed to his side and smiled weakly. He grinned back, knowing the girl was guilty about his injury. It was her idea to send him, after all. She hugged him lightly and Everett froze, surprised. It was a strange feeling, being hugged by someone he categorized as a mere acquaintance. Maybe she saw him as a friend. His unconscious body must have been a good companion. He slowly melted into the hug and patted her back, smiling softly. She pulled back with some tears in her eyes. "The bullet hit a major artery. Even with our technology, I wasn't sure if you were going to make it." Shuri said. Everett furrowed his brows and reached for her shoulder with his uninjured arm. He patted the appendage and smiled again, this time more convincing. Shuri smiled and nodded, turning around and going off to tinker on a new device. A noise at the entrance to the lab alerted Everett of another presence. He looked after it and saw T'Challa in his formal black robes. The king looked downright dashing, the robes accenting his powerful frame. Everett flushed a light pink and looked away, praying T'Challa hasn't seen his blush. Why did the king have such an effect on him? It was distracting and highly frustrating. 

"Everett," T'Challa called. 

"Your Majesty," Everett replied. T'Challa stiffened and his face flushed a bit when Everett called him that, but the pilot just figured the king was unused to being addressed that way. T'Challa approached Everett's table and folded his hands behind his back. 

"I trust you are well enough to speak for a few minutes?" he asked.

"I - uh - believe so," Everett replied.

"Thank you."

"What?"

"Thank you." 

"For what?" Everett couldn't understand why the king was thanking him. All he had been was a burden, after all. He had been since he arrived; passing out at random moments and being extremely fragile. T'Challa raised a brow at Everett's ignorance and rubbed his hands behind his back. The Wakandan saw the flashes of uncertainty in Everett's eyes and he sighed. The pilot was being incredibly dense. 

"You saved Okateye."

"Who?" Everett tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. T'Challa turned and motioned to the entrance of the lab. The small girl Everett had shielded walked in and, once she arrived at the table, clung to T'Challa's hand. The king smiled at her while she looked at the ground in a fit of bashfulness. Everett was surprised, but he tried to look friendly. The girl glanced at him and slipped a small card onto his bed and ran out of the room. T'Challa turned around to watch her go, a small smile on his lips. Everett picked up the card and smiled. It was done on pink paper with crayons. On the front, it said THANK YOU in messy handwriting. He chuckled softly and opened it up. There was a small drawing of what he assumed was him standing over the girl with a bullet heading towards his shoulder. It said Thanks for saving my life! Everett held the card and took in a shuddering breath. 

Tears started leaking out of his eyes and he sniffled quietly. T'Challa turned around and jumped in shock as he saw Everett rocking on the table with tears streaming down his face and a soft smile on his lips. His shoulder hurt with the shaking, but there was nothing Everett could do to stop it. T'Challa hesitantly puts a hand on Everett's back, rubbing in small circles. The king refused to make eye contact with Everett, staring at the wall instead. The American was happy for the privacy. He hasn't planned on breaking down like this in front of T'Challa. When his sniffles subsided, T'Challa looked at him from the corner of his eye. Everett's face was flushed and his eyes were red. "Are you alright?" T'Challa asked.

Everett nodded and answered, "Yeah." T'Challa wasn't sure if he could probe further about the obviously bittersweet memory Everett went through. Everett realized that the king had earned himself an explanation, as he had helped calm him down. The pilot sucked in a shuddering breath and grinned weakly. "Sorry, I - ah - remembered something," Everett started, "my niece. She was the sweetest girl. Loved to - uh - color with crayons on pink paper. She had the cutest smile with the smallest dimples. Had the prettiest green eyes and blonde hair. She would always tried to do her own hair. It ended up being a unicorn horn every time. She liked to go out after the rain and dig mud holes." Everett's stuttering seemed to melt away as a happy light flickered in his eyes. It suddenly flashed out. "You know that country I was fighting?" T'Challa nodded. "My niece was abducted and held prisoner in their country for three months. I signed up the day she was taken. I arrived at her prison just in time to see her shot. Eight times. They let me out of the army for a month after that. That's when they bombed that building. I'm sorry." Tears had started streaming out of Everett's eyes and he was staring at his lap with a haunted expression. T'Challa looked shocked before he schooled in his emotions, trying to seem emotionless. He turned out of the room and left the pilot alone. 

Everett stared at his lap for what seemed like minutes, mind flashing through all his memories with his niece. It wasn't until Shuri tapped him on the shoulder that he realized he had been sitting on the table for hours. she looked desperately sad as she handed him food to eat. Everett barely tasted as it as he wallowed in the pain of his loss. He laid down again and stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep.


	5. An Unpleasant Meetin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everett is introduced to new technology and a new person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. I hate to be the person to say, "I've been really busy." but I have. And I hate to be the person to beg for forgiveness, but that's what I'm doing. So sorry for not updating and I am super happy if any of you are still reading. Hey, random, but thanks so much to bulecelup for being a random inspiration for continuing the story.

The days passed by in a sort of a blur for Everett. He healed and seemed to function alright. He stayed in Shuri's lab and quickly became her assistant, and he unwittingly became a large staple in the lab work. His brain was wired for this, the technical side of life that needed little guessing and all mathematics. He did not heed the notion that Shuri was actually helping him, keeping him from dwelling on unpleasant topics in his mind. On the topic of Wakanda's technology, Everett was amazed. They had so many advances that only the world could dream of! He was slowly dragged into the feeling of awe whenever Shuri explained something to him and just had to chuckle at himself when he started to gape. 

He hadn't seen much of T'Challa, and admittedly, was missing the king. It was strange, really. He had only fought with the king, fought by the king, and one unhostile conversation. He blamed the way he felt about the king on Stockholm syndrome. T'Challa was around the only person he had met. Besides Shuri. It bothered him even more that T'Challa was a boy, not a girl. The Ross's were a proud family, and one little gay boy could and would screw up the perfect line. He had a room that was close to the labs where he could sleep, and it came with a nice kitchenette that Everett tried very hard not to burn down. It had new technology, and he just pressed the wrong button! The kitchenette was branched off a small living room, which led to Everett's bedroom and an on suite bathroom. 

Everett would awake with his face on fire some mornings, short of breath and very needy with arousal. Everett pretended it was not images of the king floating in his head as he jerked off, nor was it dreams of the king which caused these instances, though they were on rising occurrence rates. This morning he had managed to escape the dreams and woke peacefully. He looked in his small closet and picked out a clean black robe with a high collar and beautiful marks sewn across the front in a dark grey thread. He chose come black pants that were comfortable and they were hidden by the robe. The robe closed to one side and stayed there, even when Everett moved, and he thought it made him look like a piece of charcoal. He did not notice the way it accented his shoulders, clung to his waistline and flattered his skin tone. He brewed a cup of coffee in the kitchenette, which took 30 seconds to make the perfect coffee for him, based on DNA and a test he had taken earlier. Everett laughed as the coffee was filled with creamer and sugar, though it tasted wonderful. 

Finishing it, he laced it in a sink wan watched closely as the sink cleaned the cup and put the cup in a shelf, fully automated. Everett then turned from the sink and exited the room, winding through his hallway into the lab. He heard muffled words and he hurried along. He was greeted by the king and Shuri facing each other. It seemed as though Shuri was trying to convince T'Challa of something, for she was beckoning around. T'Challa started to speak and then glanced behind Shuri, his eyes landing on Everett. The king suddenly sucked in a breath and choked, turning away. Everett frowned and stepped closer and say that the king was doubled over and coughing his head off. Shuri was also ben in half, though she was shaking with laughter. Everett stepped to T'Challa and patted his back, gently thumping the king. The pilot was blushing at the position, and T'Challa kept shuddering whenever Everett's hand touched him. The two men backed up and avoided each other's eyes. T'Challa glanced at his sister and nodded. Shuri whooped, making Everett jump and turn towards her. 

"You're going, Everett!" she nearly screamed. the pilot raised an eyebrow and frowned slightly.

"Going, to - uh - where?" he asked. Shuri rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"The mission I told you about a week ago," she groaned. Everett's eyes widened and he looked at T'Challa. The king was still flushed, but he nodded at him. Everett ginned with closed lips and then smiled at Shuri's excitement. Everett was then bustled to a table and Shuri seemed to internally scream. The pilot realized that Shuri was eager to give him new technology, not for him to actually go. He chuckled and then eyed the contents of the table. It had several pistols just like the one he had used and a small necklace. It was beautiful, really. It was an amazing carving of a bird on a thin chain. 

"What's that for?" he asked. Shuri giggled and grabbed it, slipping it around Everett's neck. 

"Cross your arms," she instructed. Everett did. "Now break the cross." Everett did, and something miraculous happened. The bird seems to melt and travel up the necklace, gathering the metal there too. Then Everett could feel a heavy weight seated on his back. Looking behind him, Everett could see two huge, metal wings protruding from his upper back. Shocked, the pilot stared as they shivered and he nearly toppled over from the imbalance they introduced. He then realized he had control over them. They seemed to connect with his nerves on his back and sensed what he was wanting to do. No, he didn't have to flap his shoulder blades. That would look weird. Everett curled them around himself and marveled at the coloring, black with silver streaks. He suddenly flapped them open, nearly hitting T'Challa and then pushed the air downwards. He lifted up a few feet and then fell back down. Everett felt air blow the bottom of his robe up a bit, but he did not care. The pilot was grinning breathlessly and he surged forward and hugged Shuri. The wings wrapped around her as well, and she giggled. 

"Now, fold the wings behind your back and recross your arms," Shuri said. Everett did and the wings melted back into the necklace. T'Challa was standing on the table, flushed and nervously eyeing the exit. Shuri seemed to remember the mission and became very serious. "So, you are going to be introduced to the leader of the Jabari, M'Baku. He is dangerous, so take a pistol and wear the necklace," she commanded. Everett nodded and then grinned like a pleased schoolboy.

"You never seem to stop surprising me," he said. Shuri giggled and Everett then turned towards the door. "You coming, your highness?" he asked over his shoulder. T'Challa eyed Shuri and then bounded after the pilot. Shuri giggled and cheered. Her brother finally had a crush she could tease him about! The two men walked down the hallway and then out onto a terrace. T'Challa frowned and looked at the mountain. they would have to walk. Everett seemed to sense his discomfort and opened his wings. "Wanna fly?" he asked.

T'Challa smiled despite himself and nodded. Everett suddenly blasted off from the ground up and lifted the king from under the armpits. T'Challa let out a small gasp as Everett plummeted towards the ground with his wings folded. The green foliage grew closer and closer and T'challa let out a hoarse cry. Everett's wings snapped out and they suddenly shot up. T'Challa breathed heavily and then he heard the pilot laughing. The king tried to be indignant, but Everett's laugh was beautiful. They were advancing on the cave at an alarming rate, and Everett dropped carefully onto a ledge. The wings disappeared and Everett looked slightly sheepish, though he didn't say anything. They walked into the cave and were escorted to a large platform surrounded by aspen tree trunks. A large built man sat in the throne, covered in furs. He nodded at T'Challa and then eyed Everett, the gaze lingering longer than necessary. Everett tried to follow the powerful men's conversation, but he couldn't with the glances M'Baku kept sending. 

The conversation was apparently over and T'Challa turned to Everett. "This is Everett Ross. He was an American pilot," T'Challa said. Everett stepped forward and raised his hand to shake M'Baku's. Suddenly, the ape-man grabbed Everett's arm and let out a loud shout. People flooded the platform and T'Challa was overwhelmed. Everett was dragged off the platform and down to the snowy mountain and into a side tunnel. They took so many turns and twists that Everett's head hurt. He tried to pull against M'Baku's hand and kicked the man more than once, but his beefy arm was too strong. They suddenly ended up in a humongous room with a large bed in the middle of it. M'Baku made a large mistake of throwing Everett onto the bed and letting his arms be free. Everett's wings sprung out and he lifted off, surprising M'Baku. He started an attack, anger in his eyes. The pilot flew forward and then rotated, slamming his feet into M'Baku's chest. Reaching, he grabbed one of the ape-man's arms and lifted him off the ground, dropping him on his face.

Everett then sat on top of M'Baku, the thick wrist trapped under Everetts legs. He was so very glad he wore pants. Suddenly, he felt fingers clawing at the waistband of his pants, leaving a wet substance there. Everett flushed and jumped up, slamming the heel of his boot into M'Baku's temple. He then sighed and grabbed M'Baku's wrist and started to drag him out of the hallway. He heard calling, and it sounded like T'Challa. Everett called back and T'Challa came swinging into the hallway, suit on. he saw the blood dripping from m'Baku's temple and raised an eyebrow at Everett. "Really?" he asked. The pilot nodded and scoffed down at the body.

"Yeah. he gave me reasons to," he replied. 

"What were those reasons?" 

Everett flushed and bit his bottom lip, suddenly realizing how dangerous that situation could have been. and how embarrassing this story was. T'Challa noticed his discomfort and bent down to look at M'Baku. He did not miss the lube covering his fingers and his eyes widened. Everett looked disheveled, and scared, shaking slightly and a single tear dropped to the floor. T'Challa hugged the older man and whispered calm soothings into his ear. 

Once Everett had calmed down he said, "Sorry, your highness." and pulled away. T'Challa nodded and they started walking out of the cave. T'Challa saw all of the people on the platform were unconscious or dead. 

They walked out in the snow and Everett whispered, "Thank you.


	6. The Man in Distress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everett sees something he shouldn't have and he is emotionally hurt. He also had a fun bit at the beginning of the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there is going to be explicit sexual content in this. Apologies to anyone who doesn't want that. Also, thank you to GayinaPastLife for the inspiration for this chapter. Sorry if I didn't do exactly what you asked for. Thanks for reading and have a wonderful day!

Everett was confused. 

Wakanda had such amazing technology and many black people were shunned and beaten in the streets. Everett had tried very hard to help his friend, a black man, into the army with airforce with him, but his friend did not make it in. Gerett, Everett's friend, was more athletically capable than Everett, more focused, and better at the mental state it took to fly. He simply did not make it in because he was black. Why didn't Wakanda help any of their people across the world? And how the hell was T'Challa so fast? He had been sitting in his room with his nose crinkled and staring at a wall, toiling over these questions, but he came up with no answer. One day, while he and Shuri were tinkering in the lab again, he brought up the courage to ask. 

"So, uh, Shuri," he started, "can I - ah - ask you a question?" The girl glanced over at him and nodded.

"Sure." 

"Why don't you help people - um - outside your country?" 

Shuri sighed and set down her tools and turned her chair towards Everett. He pretended not to be, but he was nervous. He didn't want to overstep his welcome again, after all. The pilot fidgeted with his sleeve collar and tried not to bite his lip. Shuri seemed to consider something and then locked Everett in a piercing stare. "We don't rule those people, Everett. They aren't a part of Wakanda. All of our kings have hidden Wakanda from the world and my brother is reluctant to break the tradition," she said. Shuri didn't grow impatient with Everett and he was thankful for that. He nodded and then furrowed his eyebrows. 

"Couldn't you at least try to protect the ones who are being beaten on the street?" he asked. Shuri smiled bitterly and then gained a faraway look in her eyes. 

"We tried. It got us very close to being discovered," she replied. Everett felt sad and looked at the floor. That wasn't fair, was it? To make innocent people suffer because of tradition. He then stepped into T'Challa's shoes. The young king was just starting to deal with the responsibilities of being king and he had enough power to destroy the world. Everett would be scared. He would shut the doors too. He could not blame the king. 

"I understand. Honestly, I - ah - would be scared too. All that power? Umph." he sympathized, looked at the floor sadly. When he looked up, Shuri seemed surprised, but she didn't say anything. Smiling softly, she turned back to her instruments. "How is T'Challa so strong?" Everett blurted before he could stop himself. Shuri turned back to him with a cheeky grin on her face. He flushed a bit and glanced at the floor again. Shuri then tapped her hand on her leg as she tried to explain it. 

"The Black Panther is the guardian of Wakanda. He also rules over all of us, except the Jabari tribe. The Black Panther drinks a heart-shaped herb that gives them super strength," she said, and with a playful poke to Everett's arm, she continued, "and dashing good looks." Everett blushed and shoved her shoulder, going to wear off his fluster in a corner. Shuri spins in her chair and started to laugh her head off when she spotted T'Challa standing in the door, face completely flushed. He was slightly hunched and was staring at Everett, fingers twitching. She laughed even harder and decided to bother her brother. Standing up, she brushed by T'Challa and gave him a little wink before walking down the hallway. The king choked slightly and then growled after her. 

Everett turned around and was sent into another flushing fit as he looked at the king's ass, which was what his eyes looked at first. Those damn traitors. T'Challa was wearing form-fitting pants and a tight shirt covered by a suit jacket. Everett could not look away. T'Challa turned around and found Everett staring, who instantly blushed even more and stared at the ground. His head was flooded with thoughts, nasty, dirty, disgusting thoughts. He wanted T'Challa to 'slam him into the wall and start to ki- goddammit Everett!' he internally screamed. This was wrong. Just wrong. While Everett had been blushing at the floor, T'Challa seemed to have been staring. The pilot looked up and cleared his throat, coughing lightly. Glancing towards the hallway, he saw his escape. 

"Excuse me, your highness. I have some business to attend to," he said and seemingly sprinted out of the lab. T'Challa watched him go and then walked out of the lab himself. Everett was sitting on his bed, panting from the run and then glanced at his pants. A large tent was holding the fabric up and Everett cursed quietly. He laid back and slipped off the tight clothing. His large arousal popped free and he groaned quietly. He closed a hand around his erection and then hissed lightly. Rubbing a hand over the tip, Everett started to suck on one of his fingers. Removing the finger with a trail of saliva stuck to it, he lowered the appendage to his entrance and gently pushed in. He hissed louder and then panted, heaving on the bed. His back started to arch and Everett gasped as he saw T'Challa in his eyes. He pretended the king was slamming him on a wall and kissing him senseless, and Everett suddenly hit his prostate on accident. He released a loud exhale of breath that could have passed as a moan. He desperately prayed no one was in the lab. He stroked faster and faster, hand slick from his own precum. A large tension gathered in is stomach and Everett panted faster. He hit his prostate again and groaned quite loudly when thick ropes of cum squirted out of his cock, getting on his robe. He panted and lay on the bed for a while, then when he felt like he could, changed clothing. He tried to choose a robe that was close to the one he had been wearing. 

Everett tried not to think about what he did. He classified it as disgusting. How would a king love someone like him? There were so many people he would deserve more. Walking into the lab, Everett smiled to himself as the room was vacated. He decided to walk around the building and marveled at all the architecture. he passed the door and saw the dent was still there. It was a sort of memoir. Walking past several doors, he heard some soft words being spoken on a terrace. Everett knew it was not his business, but he really wanted to know what was going on. Glancing outside, he saw two figures standing very close to each other. Curtains obscured his view and Everett pulled one of them back. He gasped and dropped the cover quickly. 

T'Challa stood with a girl on the terrace, and they were making out. Fiercely and passionately. Everett knew that he was an idiot. A single gasp escaped his lips and he ran back to the terrace in the lab. He needed to clear his head. He jumped from the terrace and unfolded his wings, flying over the dark city. Angry tears slipped from his eyes as he flipped, did so many tricks until his head swam. He continued to fly until it hurt, and then he flew more. Landing back on the terrace, Evertt was calmed down and so tired that he almost fell down right then. He barely made it to his room and slumped on the bed. 

The next day Everett ignored his sore shoulders and got dressed. Walking out into the lab with a cup of coffee, he saw T'Challa talking to Shuri. Everett was not ready to deal with the king and he turned right back into his room. T'Challa called out to him, but the pilot kept walking. He slammed his door and then slumped on the door. There were no more tears for him to cry. He knew he was being irrational and childish, as he knew that the king deserved someone like her. He heard a voice outside the door say, "Everett? Are you okay?" It was Shuri. Everett considered responding and figured that Shuri was most definitely worth a better friend than one that shuts themselves into their own rooms. So he responded. 

"Yeah," he said. Shuri stayed and seemed to want a full conversation. From the soft scraping sound from behind the door, it sounded like she had sat down. 

"Why are you shut in your room?"

Everett furrowed his eyebrows and exhaled through his nose as he realized the truth was all he could tell. "I - um - don't want to talk to T'Challa," he confessed, guiltily looking at the opposite wall. He had no reason to be jealous or hurt. The king didn't know of his affections and probably wanted the girl more. Shuri giggled and sighed. 

"Just because you have a crush on him doesn't mean my brother has the plague, genius." she joked, not understanding. Everett laughed as well, though it sounded hollow and forced even to his own ears. He knew Shuri would pick up on it. "Everett, what happened?" she asked. Everett sighed and rubbed his forehead. He had a headache from all of this drama. 

"I saw T'Challa kissing a woman last night," he started, "I was being an idiot and - uh - daydreaming about - um - your brother." Everett laid his head against the door and closed his eyes. It had been a while since he had felt like this. Way back when he was a young teenager. 

Shuri was silent until Everett heard her mutter, "That idiot!" and growl other curses under her breath. Everett started to laugh and shake on the floor, tears leaking out of his eyes again. Shuri must have been surprised for she shouted, "Everett? What's going on?" and banged on the door. Everett continued to laugh until he couldn't anymore. 

"It's funny. You called the - uh - wrong person an idiot," he giggled, wiping tears from his face. Shuri muttered again and jiggled the handle to Everett's room. It was locked. She sighed and rubbed her hands over the door.

"I'm sorry, Everett," she said and seemed to walk off. Everett's eyes drooped from crying and he gently closed them and nodded off to sleep. After what could have been several seconds or hours, there was a knock on the door. Startling Everett, he gave out a yelp and sprang to his feet. he didn't know who it was, and he readied himself for a fight. The pilot gently eased the door open to see T'Challa standing in front of him. Everett scowled and stuck his head out of the door, looking towards the lab. 

"Shuri!" he shouted, "Get this man out of my doorway!" Everett then scooted back into his room and slammed the door. He knew he was being stupid. It just hurt so god damn much! Sighing, Everett knew that he would have to face the conversation one day. He saw hurt flashing in the king's eyes and he rubbed his forehead. The pilot glanced up and snapped, "What do you want?"

T'Challa was trying very hard to keep his emotions from showing, but Everett could see the regret flashing in his face. "I wanted to say sorry," he said. Everett sighed again and resisted the urge to punch the doorframe. The pilot groaned and wanted to scream. This was so stupid. 

"It's not your fault. I - uh - am super stupid. So, um, you can go now." Everett said and turned to shut the door again. T'Challa grabbed his wrist and something in Everett snapped. He wanted to get away, he wanted to leave. He pulled and suddenly rammed into a wall, dragging T'Challa to him. Their bodies landed flush together and Everett blushed heavily. T'Challa looked slightly flushed as well. Everett looked at the ceiling and huffed lightly. Shoving T'Challa backward he gasped for air and grabbed his chest. Growling, the pilot shoved T'Challa out of the room and before he slammed the door with enough force to crack the wall he spat:

"Go kiss your girlfriend."


	7. A Repeating Cycle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go awry and Everett is stranded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for all those who are still reading this, I apologize for the slow updates. I have been dealing with a lot of pressure from my parents and have had a horrid time writing. I find what Everett is going through what I go through day to day and that makes it extremely hard for me to write. So I apologize for the super late update. To any of you who have commented and even read this, thank you so much. It has made my life so much better.

Everett was exhausted. 

He was having nightmares; blood everywhere, his niece, tied in ropes with her limbs being disassembled, her screams ripping through the building. He would wake and lash out at the nearest object with a shout. It must have been annoying for anyone who could hear him, but Everett didn't care and he wanted it to stop. He couldn't sleep after the horrific dreams assaulted him and he took to flying in the night, becoming more and more reckless as the habit grew. He had scratches all over his body and bags sat under his eyes from the restless nights. 

He barely left his room anymore, preferring to stay in solitude and live off of coffee instead. If the pilot checked, he would find himself exactly fourteen pounds lighter than he was before he began to shut down. He wasn't the type of person to be rattled by such a silly schoolgirl matter, but Everett couldn't help it. He felt nothing and the desire to sit on the floor and scream until his voice was gone was so persistent. Tears seemed to multiply behind his eyes and would spill at any given moment. It was horrific. He hated it, but there was nothing for him to do. So he would sit, stare at the wall, and wash all thoughts from his head with fantasies of a better life. They became so strong that he would often wash away all his worries with it, forget he was himself, and dream about so many different things. 

Until one day, when Shuri pounded on his door and screamed at him, "Get out here, Everett!" The pilot was so shocked by the difference in character from this wild-sounding girl and her usual calm facade that he jumped up and opened the door. Shuri was standing there, tears pouring down her face and she looked distraught. Everett immediately jumped to her side and hugged her. The sobs racked them both until Everett patted her back and whispered little comforts into her ears. She then calmed down and grabbed the pilot's wrist without a word and pulled him into the lab. Her brother lay on the table that Everett used to occupy and looked horrible. His face was bruised and bandaged seemed to cover his whole entire upper half. His legs were covered in stitched cuts and they were flaming red. 

Everett sucked in a gasp and felt his knees start to buckle. The wall supported him and his vision swam. Shuri was looking drained and Everett realized she had fixed her brother alone. Suddenly, a wall of guilt, shame and pain broke and Everett cried out, tears beginning to stream down his face with ugly sobs that ripped their way through his throat. He tore at his hair, grabbing his head screaming loudly. Through his teary gaze, Everett could see Shuri standing in front of him, fear and pain in her eyes. He screamed louder and then slammed his head into the wall once, twice, and a third time until Shuri grabbed his wrists and yanked him up. He stopped screaming and all the fight left his stance and then he fell to the floor. Shuri picked him up and finally realized the state that the pilot had been when he was hiding in his room. She whimpered "Oh, Everett," and sunk to his level and put her head on his chest. 

Everett sniffled wetly and rested his chin on her head. "I'm so sorry, Shuri," he whispered, his voice to wrecked to answer. She nodded and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tight and he did the same. They sat there for a while, just two broken people on their knees until Everett groaned and let go of Shuri to rub his neck. Pulling away, he twisted his head and a loud crack rang through the room. He groaned and then giggled. Shuri soon joined them and with their distraught hearts and torn apart feelings, they laughed and laughed on the floor. Once they stopped, pushed a hand through Shuri's hair and mumbled, "I have been an idiot lately, haven't I?"

Shuri gained a cheeky grin and said, "Yes, a bit more than usual," Everett smiled and got to his feet and pulled up a chair next to T'Challa's bed. 

"Do you mind?" he asked.

"No," Shuri said and so Everett stayed. He sat vigil over T'Challa's body, worry flooding his veins until he apparently fell asleep. he was stirred from his slumber by movement under his head. Everett blinked slowly and wondered where the hell he was. He then remembered last night and jerked a couple inches up. He saw T'Challa awake and staring down at him from a sitting position, confusion clearly spelled on his face. Everett felt relief spill through his body and he surged forward before he thought of his actions and smooshed his lips onto T'Challa's. Getting no response, Everett pulled back with wide eyes and shuddered out a shaking:

"Oh, shit,"

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, this is my first fic ever...yeah. Anyway, please help me out and comment on what you dislike or like. If you have a suggestion, please let me know.


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